


Lemme Rock Your World, Baby

by mithrel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Conversations, Blow Jobs, Clubbing, Glory Hole, Innuendo, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shiro Swears a Lot, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-05-10 09:30:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14734413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: An anonymous blowjob in a bathroom, which leads to all kinds of complications.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in this fandom, aaah! No ship tags in this chapter, I will add them if I decide to continue it. Should I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an anonymous blowjob in a club bathroom. Sure.

Lance slides casually towards the back of the club, nothing to see here, just going to pee.

He looks at the doorway to the restrooms, men’s on one side, ladies’ on the other.

And slips casually one door down, to the _other_ bathroom.

The unmarked one.

He doesn’t usually do this, but he’s between relationships at the moment, and what the hell, you’re only young once, right?

The bathroom is a mess: cracked and spotted mirror, fluorescent lights buzzing and clicking as they flicker just-too-fast for the eye to follow, constant _drip-drip-drip_ of the tap.

There are two stalls, side by side.

He checks the door to one. It’s locked.

Lance slides into the other stall, locks the door and looks at the seatless toilet.

Finds the hole in the wall.

He lets out a deep breath through his nose, shrugs down his jeans and boxers, kicking one leg free so he can widen his stance.

There’s a noise on the other side of the wall, small, a shifting of weight.

Lance gives himself a couple strokes, just to get things started.

And slides into the hole.

For a second nothing happens, then he feels warm breath and hot lips.

The lips slide up over his crown and suck a little, and Lance’s whole brain shifts to the other side of that hole.

He grunts and lifts up on his toes, his hands rubbing against the rough paint of the wall.

The lips move off, but only for a moment. A heartbeat later they’re mouthing up the side of his suddenly rock-hard dick, and _god_ , now there’s a _tongue_.

He feels stubble scrape against his skin, and yeah, he guesses it’s a guy, like he figured. Not that Lance is picky, but it’s nice to know.

Now he’s going down again, along the bottom, licking along the vein, and Lance whines, feels the lips quirk against his skin. _Yeah, buddy, you got a right to be smug. Asshole._

The guy noses at the top of his dick, pokes his tongue through the hole, and Lance wishes the hole was big enough for the guy to be able to take his balls in his mouth, because _fuck_.

And suddenly there’s warm wetness surrounding his cock, almost halfway down, and Lance fucking keens, going up on his toes again, hips snapping, helpless pants spilling from his mouth.

Aaand, up again, slight brush of teeth, down again, somehow even deeper, and Lance loses it and comes and comes and _comes_.

The guy licks him clean while he’s recovering and pulls back and Lance waits a moment, unsure of the protocol, but there’s nothing further from the other side, so he gets his shaky knees under him and totters out of the stall, out the door, his blood still buzzing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt is evil, and Shiro is going to kill him slowly for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, this chapter was impossible to write, sorry if it's OOC.

Shiro grinds his teeth as he drinks at the bar. Damn Matt and his constant needling. Damn his own need for validation. Shiro takes a sip of his new drink and almost spits it out. What the hell is this, lighter fluid?

Beside him, Matt laughs at his expression and downs his own glass of lighter fluid like it’s water.

 _You’re too tense,_ he says. _You need to loosen up,_ he says.

Yeah, like drinking more alcohol than he’s had since his college days in a club with neon lights dancing around the walls and techno noise blaring is the way to loosen up, Jesus.

“OK, I came here, I drank, can we go now?” he yells over the constant _bwaa-bwaa-bwaa_ of the music.

Matt shakes his head, grinning, the bastard. “Nope. There’s one more thing you gotta do.”

 _Please don’t let it be dancing._ Shiro has three left feet, and can just about sway back and forth in rhythm.

This is ridiculous. Shiro is a grown-ass man, he should just get up and leave.

But Matt drags him up, away from the bar, past the dance floor, towards the back of the club.

It looks like he’s heading for the bathrooms, and Shiro is momentarily confused, but they go past them.

Matt opens a door in a shadowy alcove, and it’s a bathroom alright, but there’s no way it’s been used since the 90s.

“Matt, what–“

Ignoring his protest, Matt opens one of the stall doors and drags Shiro inside.

The hysterical thought that Matt is going to mug him flits through his brain, but the truth turns out to be worse.

Matt points to a three-inch hole in the bathroom stall, the sides smoothed and beveled. “You. There.”

Shiro blinks at the waist-level hole for a moment before it percolates into his brain what it must be. “Matt, no, holy shit!”

“Matt, yes,” he replies, slipping out of the stall. “I’ll be guarding the door, and I expect you to be at least ten minutes and come out smelling like sex!”

The bathroom door shuts behind him and Shiro’s up like a shot, turning the knob.

It rattles in his hand.

 _He locked the door, that_ piece of ass-dandruff _locked the door!_

Shiro tries the door again, rams his shoulder against it, rubs his shoulder, muffling a curse. Dammit, he doesn’t _do_ casual sex, Matt _knows_ that!

He looks around the bathroom again, for lack of anything better to do. Yep, it’s a shithole.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. There’s no point in pounding on the door–he knows enough about Matt to realize the asshat won’t budge. So he’s stuck waiting here for whatever the duration of a reasonable blowjob is supposed to be.

There’s nowhere to sit down, and he doesn’t want to lean against the wall, so he goes back into the stall and perches gingerly on the edge of the toilet.

This unfortunately puts him close to eye-level with the hole, and even though he can’t see anything from this angle, his eyes keep being drawn to it.

There’s probably nobody in the other stall anyway. He hasn’t heard a sound from the other side of the wall since he came in, and his friends have often told him he has “ears like a bat.” This is probably one of Matt’s sadistic pranks.

And now he realizes he actually has to pee. He stands up and unbuckles his belt before realizing that, nope, false alarm.

He looks at the hole again, weighs his dick in his hand consideringly, shrugs, and after some awkward maneuvering, gets it through the hole.

He stands there for a good ten seconds, feeling like an idiot, thankful that there’s no one else to see this, before he feels _fingers_ on his skin.

He yelps and pulls back so fast he almost loses some skin despite the smooth edges of the hole. There’s a small huff from the other side. Exasperation? Amusement?

Shiro’s face is burning, but he figures he’s already hit his embarrassment limit and he might as well get something out of it while he’s at it.  
It takes almost half a minute for the fingers to return, and when they do they’re tentative, ghosting along his skin, as if afraid he’d spook again.

 _Great, Shiro, now anonymous blowjob guy thinks you’re a blushing virgin._ He resists the urge to make a comment.

The fingers get a little firmer, doing some weird two-finger-and-thumb massaging thing, but it works, it _definitely_ works, and Shiro stops thinking about how embarrassed he is, stops thinking about how he’s going to kill Matt, stops thinking _period._

After a few moments of toying with him, the fingers retreat and there’s a mouth, sucking gently at him and then moving down.

It’s a good blowjob, but it’s nothing different than he’s had before, and Shiro tells himself he’s ridiculous for being disappointed by that. Maybe the guy is afraid of freaking him out again.

The guy pulls off and moves down again, fluttering a tongue against his underside, and Shiro’s breath hitches, then stops momentarily as the guy does it again.

Whoever’s giving him the blowjob seems to take that as a signal that he’s down with the program, because, the mouth pulls off, the fingers start stroking him again while the guy nuzzles at the base, and Shiro swears he sees a flash of pink through the hole, oh _God_ …

He loses it then, possibly coming on the guy’s face, he’s not even sure he cares, then leans his head against the wall and groans, long and low, as the guy licks him clean, the aftershocks almost painful.

He coughs, catches his breath and pulls away, not sure of the protocol of post-anonymous-sex in a shitty bathroom, so he ends up sneaking off like a coward, knocking on the door with an “Open up Matt, you _bastard!_ ”, ignoring his teasing question of “So how was it?”, pushing past him, face burning, and getting in the car, leaving Matt to find his own damn way home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance might be a little obsessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter's short, sorry. I just want to get this written so I can move on to the next part.

OK, so maybe this is unhealthy. No, scratch that, he _knows_ it’s unhealthy, he knows he’s obsessed, that he doesn’t even know what the guy looks like, much less his name or anything else about him.

But his last serious relationship was six months ago and he has zero prospects. Lance knows it’s pathetic, but he can’t help himself.

He keeps coming back.

And the guy doesn’t say anything, thank God, so either he doesn’t notice (and with how many cocks he must see on a regular basis maybe they all blur together, and _wow,_ that is an uncomfortable thought), or doesn’t care that Lance is apparently needy as fuck.

And OK, maybe his last girlfriend dumped him for being “clingy,” but that’s because she was an unromantic Feles…filist…jerk.

No one else has commented that he’s been hanging around a lot either, and it’s not like he goes straight to the back and then out again. He’s more subtle than that. He has a couple drinks, dances with whoever’s currently on the floor, maybe flirts a little, and at some point, slips into the bathroom.

He never says anything to the guy in the next stall, never does anything other than the bare minimum required, and yeah, maybe that’s kinda shitty, but it’s apparently expected? Which just makes him feel bad for the unnamed guy.

He’s here again, now, leaning his head against the wall, hips thrusting as he’s sucked down, little whiny noises in the back of his throat, and he can’t think, can’t worry about obsession or anything else.

The guy backs off, mouths along the shaft, and Lance feels hair against his skin for a moment before there’s a barely-there scrape of teeth, then lips on the underside, moving back up and licking around the head as Lance whines again, the lips tight around him, flick of tongue and…

And he’s gone, coming and coming, arms coming up to keep him from falling down, standing and panting for long minutes before he collects himself.

He pushes the door open, telling himself he can’t, won’t, do this again, but he says that every time and it never makes a difference.

There’s someone else coming toward the bathroom. That’s never happened before, but Lance guesses it was only a matter of time, particularly with how often he’s been coming here.

The guy passes beneath a flickering light and Lance stops in his tracks as he recognizes him.

“…Shiro?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro gets caught.

Shiro sits in the club, feeling even more out-of-place now that he’s alone, sipping on a ginger ale. It’s been a week since he was last here, and the whole time he’s been thinking about the anonymous guy in the bathroom.

He doesn’t even know why he’s back here, except that he wants to know what it’s like to let someone touch him when he isn’t half-jumping out of his skin. The guy had been so _focused,_ as if there was nothing more important than sucking cock. He feels a flush on his face at the thought.

He finishes his soda, sits up and heads to the back of the club, checking to make sure the hallway is empty.

This whole thing is ridiculous. He should leave right now and not look back.

Shiro opens the door.

The bathroom looks the same as the last time he was in here. This time he doesn’t hesitate in entering the stall. He’s already hardening as he takes himself out, and he spares a thought to how pitiful that is before he guides himself through the hole.

Almost immediately he feels fingers on his cock, then lips, suckling the head. His breath stutters and he closes his eyes.

The lips pull off with a kiss to the tip, and a tongue licks the vein underneath, moving up as far as it can go then back down again. There’s a mouth at the sides now, and it’s wet and messy and so, so hot.

“ _God!_ ” Shiro grits out, his hands clawing at the wall, and feels lips quirk against him.

The mouth sucks him down again, tongue massaging the underside of his cock, moving back up and then down again, over and over, until he’s spilling down the anonymous throat, his blood singing.

In only a few moments his breath starts to slow down, and he pulls back and tucks himself away, his insides feeling small and shriveled, and slinks out of the club.

***

Shiro hovers near the back of the club, debating with himself. It’s only a few days since he was last here, and he’s trying in vain to get control of himself.

He hesitates, takes a step down the hall, and _shit_ , there’s someone coming out of the bathroom.

It’s too late for him to run, so he just slouches down and waits for the guy to go by.

He’s not expecting the familiar voice that comes out of the dimness of the hallway. “…Shiro?”

It’s Lance, shitshit _shit,_ what the hell is he going to do? The longer he stands there, staring at his coworker in shock, the more awkward the situation will become.

“I-I don’t know who you mean,” he stammers out, turns on his heel and flees.


	5. Chapter 5

Lance doesn’t see Shiro the next day, even though according to the time-clock he clocked in early…way early, like 6:00 A.M. Shiro’s not on the register, or stocking shelves, cleaning the floor or collecting carts. He’s about to head to the stockroom when Pidge hails him.

“Lance, the POS System is down…again!”

Lance swears, shooting a glance over his shoulder at them. “OK, put out signs it’ll be ‘Cash Only’ until you get it fixed–“

“People’ll be thrilled with that,” Pidge mutters.

“I _know_ that, I can’t help it if the POS is a literal POS, just patch it up ASAP!” He hates being assistant manager.

“Lance!” Hunk says, “Someone left a–situation on the changing table in the ladies’ room. We might need Haz-Mat!”

Lance swears again, pokes his head in the ladies’ room and almost throws up, then grabs a mop to clean up the unholy mess of vomit, blood and shit smeared on the walls and floor.

The day continues like that, crisis after crisis, and when the last customer has left (forty minutes after closing, thanks a _lot,_ asshole), and Lance sags against the wall, he finally remembers Shiro.

“Okay, let’s call it a night, guys,” he says, as Pidge locks the cash register, swearing under their breath. Shiro slinks out of the stockroom, starting when he sees Lance still there. “Ah, there you are, _Mr. Shirogane._ There are some events that, as _manager_ , you need to be apprised of, so can I talk to you now please?” And okay, so that’s a dick move, but Lance has been on his feet for ten hours, been in contact with bodily fluids heretofore undiscovered, and the man who was _supposed_ to back him up has been playing hide and seek all day.

“O-of course!” Shiro says, going slightly white.

The others shuffle gratefully out as Lance stares at Shiro, arms folded, tapping his foot. Shiro attempts to make himself small, but it doesn’t really work.

“L-look, I know today was crazy–“

“Crazy?” Lance laughs, sounding slightly hysterical, “ _Crazy_?! Shiro, the POS went out for two hours, the ATM ran out an hour into that, there was a line out the door, and _where were you,_ huh? Huh??”

The incongruity of yelling at his boss like this strikes him suddenly, as well as the way Shiro looks like he wants to sink into the floor. Lance sees his face again, illuminated by a naked, dirty light bulb, and all the anger runs out of him as he scrubs a hand over his face.

“Just…don’t do it again, okay?”

He doesn’t need Shiro’s relieved agreement to know he won’t. Shiro is such a conscientious boss it’s painful.

“Um…if it helps…the stockroom’s completely reorganized,” Shiro says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Lance snorts. “Glad to see you found something to do with yourself.”

Shiro flushes again, “Look…Lance…”

Lance waves his arms around, shaking his head, “I don’t care what you do in your private time!”

“It wasn’t like that!” Shiro squawks, and Lance is morbidly curious, but he stifles his retort.

“I don’t care what it was like! Just don’t let it affect your job!” Lance shakes his head exasperatedly at Shiro. “Or our friendship.”

Shiro looks horrified at the thought. “No, why would it…I mean unless you–“

Lance waves his hands again. “Dude, you’ve got a crap job. You need some time to unwind.”

Shiro mumbles something, of which Lance only catches “Matt.” He decides not to ask, but the thought of Shiro being in that bathroom, having things done to him, suddenly intrudes. What does he look like? What does he _sound_ like? He pushes the image forcibly out of his mind, but apparently his brain is still preoccupied with the question that’s been gnawing on him for weeks. “So do you know who he is?”

“What?” Shiro asks, blinking at him in confusion.

“The…the guy,” Lance makes a gesture that has Shiro flushing as he shakes his head.

“I only went once…well, twice.” Shiro shifts from foot to foot. “Not including when you caught me.”

“Oh.” Lance doesn’t volunteer how many times _he’s_ been, partly because he’s lost count, but his traitorous mouth continues on its merry way. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“What type?” And Shiro’s defensive again, hunching over, hugging himself.

“The type to do casual hookups.”

“It wasn’t a _hookup,_ ” Shiro says, lower lip between his teeth, but then he sighs and murmurs “I’m not.”

Lance opens his mouth to ask another question, but just then the clock on the wall behind Shiro’s head catches his eye. “Shit, it’s almost 10:30!”

Shiro’s eyes widen, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Fuck!”

They hastily complete the last tasks to close down the store, and Lance turns off the lights and locks up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro offers to help Lance find the mystery guy.

Lance lets the subject rest for a few days with Shiro, and doesn’t go back to the club, but it keeps itching at him. Who is he? _Who is he?_

Finally, though, walking out to the parking lot with Shiro after a (mercifully uneventful) shift, he blurts out “How can we find out who he is?!”

Shiro stares at him, brows furrowed. “Who who is?”

“The…the guy, you know, from the club!” Lance says, waving his arms somewhat manically.

“…Oh,” Shiro says, as though he’s remembering something from a long time ago. “Are you still thinking about that?”

Lance bites back a retort of _clearly_ he is, or he wouldn’t have brought it up, and responds simply, “Yeah, I am.”

Shiro sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I think you should just forget it, Lance. After all, it was just meaningless sex, right?”

Lance flashes back to the conversation where Shiro claims he doesn’t _have_ meaningless sex. But he apparently hasn’t gone back to the club either, so maybe it was just a fluke. “Yeah,” he says slowly, sighing. “Yeah, you’re right. I should just forget about it.”

Lance sees his car and pushes the button for the door, shuffling morosely toward it.

“Lance?”

He looks up. Shiro’s frowning at him in…concern? disapproval? but he says “We could ask Pidge.”

Lance feels his face light up, because that’s a _great_ idea!

***

Pidge is their IT whiz and resident tech guru, keeping the POS system from imploding more than it already does, making sure the inventory matches up, and generally making life easier for all of them.

They look at Lance suspiciously when he brings it up. “You want me to _what?_ ”

Trying not to flush guiltily, Lance repeats “I want you to hack in to the system for _Club Pyre._

Pidge gives him a look that convinces Lance they can read his mind. “Okay, one,” they say, holding up a finger, “You know that’s illegal, right?”

“Um,” Lance says, rubbing his neck.

Pidge lifts their glasses to pinch the bridge of their nose. “Right, okay. Two, that’s a closed system, so it will take awhile. What exactly do you want me to look for?”

“Just the employee list!” Lance hastens to assure them.

“Oh,” Pidge says. “You know that’s public record, right? You just have to submit a request.”

Lance feels a rush of relief. “Could…you do that for me?”

Pidge snorts. “How did you ever become assistant manager if you don’t know how to submit a simple public records request? Okay, okay,” they concede, in the face of his puppy eyes. “On one condition.”

Lance narrows his eyes, rightfully suspicious. “What’s that?”

“That you _never_ tell me what this is about. I want plausible deniability.”

Since the last thing Lance wants is to explain the situation to Pidge, he readily agrees.

***

Lance spends the next two weekends at the Club Pyre until well after midnight, chatting with every male employee and checking them off the list. All the cute ones turn out to be straight, though, or already have boyfriends, so he doesn’t get anything out of it.

Shiro notices when he yawns for the third time in five minutes. “Not getting much sleep lately?”

“I’ve been spending a lot of time at Club Pyre,” Lance mumbles.

Shiro’s disapproval is palpable, and Lance hastens to add “Not like that! Pidge got me the employee list and I’ve been cross-checking to see if I can figure out who…he…is.”

Shiro’s frown eases, but doesn’t disappear. “Lance…”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay! I know it’s pathetic, I can’t help it!”

Shiro massages above his eyebrows, as if he’s getting a headache. “In that case, I’d better help you.”

Lance’s eyes pop. “ _What?_ ”

Shiro sighs. “With two of us, it will go faster.”

Lance casts him a look of undying gratitude. “Man, would you?”

“Only because I don’t want this obsession to make you sick,” Shiro says, and Lance’s stomach twists guiltily. He tries to look appropriately contrite, especially since he knows Shiro hates the club.

***

The first day he meets Shiro at the club, Lance groans. He’s wearing khakis and a polo shirt. It doesn’t look _bad,_ but it’s not what you wear to a place like this.

Shiro’s eyes widen as he looks at Lance, which is going a bit far. After all, he’s got nothing like the crop-tops, fishnets and leather on display elsewhere, just a pair of holey jeans and a faded T-shirt that says _Sex is only dirty if you do it right_. 

“Dude, what are you _wearing?_ ” Lance demands.

“Uh…clothes?” Shiro says, nervously rubbing his hands over his thighs.

“You’re wearing _khakis!_ ” Lance accuses him.

“So?” Shiro’s ears are red.

Lance gestures to the bar, the dance floor. “You see anyone _else_ wearing khakis around here?”

Shiro crosses his arms, his jaw firming. “In case you forgot, I’m only here as a favor to _you!_ ”

Lance runs his hand through his hair. “Right, right, sorry. Let’s get to it.”

Lance goes over to the dance floor, while Shiro sits down at the bar.

He dances for a couple songs, loosening up, then moves toward the bar, where Shiro is sitting, nursing something dark with ice in it, while the bartender dimples at him.

As he comes over, the bartender whispers in Shiro’s ear. Shiro blushes, but takes a piece of paper from him and tucks it in his pocket as the bartender heads to the other corner.

“What was that all about?” Lance asks, gesturing to the bartender as he sits down next to Shiro.

Shiro blushes again. “He…ah…he gave me his number.”

“He _what?_ ” Lance squawks incredulously.

Now Shiro looks vaguely offended. “You don’t have to seem so surprised.”

“Sorry,” Lance says. Truly, it’s not what Shiro thinks. He’d flirted with the bartender as a matter of course the first time he was here, and had been told he had a boyfriend. Lance feels a surge of jealousy that Shiro is getting more action than him. “So are you going to call him?”

Shiro shrugs, drawing on the bar with the condensation from his drink. “I don’t know. He seems nice enough, but I’m not really into casual hookups.”

Lance nods, and starts doing what he actually came here to do.

***

The next time he meets Shiro, he’s wearing nice jeans and a faded black T-shirt, which is a step up. More, if Lance is being brutally honest. The shirt’s tight and outlines his muscles nicely.

Shiro raises an eyebrow at his shirt, which says _I’m trying to give up sexual innuendo, but it’s hard. So hard_. “Really?”

Lance only grins, unrepentant.

***

The third time Lance goes there, he hears at least three people greet Shiro as they come in.

“How come they all know you?” he hisses. Lance has been here a lot more often than Shiro, after all.

Shiro shrugs, looking a lot more comfortable than the last few times. “I know we need to get their names, but I can’t just go around with a checklist. I actually talk to them. There’s a lot of interesting people here.”

Lance scowls. He’s seen Shiro accept three more pieces of paper, and several people have typed things into his phone. He doesn’t ask, because it’s none of his business, but he’s annoyed that Shiro is getting more offers than he is, and he’s not even flirting.

He sighs. There’s only a few more names on the list, and then they’ll find the guy and Shiro won’t need to come here anymore. The thought leaves him conflicted.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The identity of the mystery man is finally revealed!

Lance is within five minutes of giving up. They’ve been here often enough to have checked off every male employee, even the ones who were sick or off on a particular day. He figures it was too much to hope for that a gray area if not downright illegal employee would be listed.

Plus, he’s been having _thoughts_ about Shiro. The type of thoughts that involve moans and sweaty skin. It’s unnerving, to say the least.

So when Shiro nudges him from where they’re sitting at the bar, Lance can’t be blamed if he jumps.

Shiro raises a brow, and Lance can feel himself flushing. He follows Shiro’s gaze to a figure in a dark-red hoodie approaching the red-haired manager. They go through a door marked “EMPLOYEES ONLY,” and when they come out, he’s stuffing a wad of something into his dark jeans.

“Think that’s our guy?” Shiro whispers.

Lance shrugs. “I don’t know who else it could be.”

“What do you want to do?” Shiro asks, but Lance is already up and following the figure out the door.

He hears Shiro curse behind him, but he’s beyond caring. He’s finally going to find out the answer to the mystery.

He does slow down once he’s outside, following the figure loping down the empty street at a safe distance. Shiro catches up to him a few moments later.

The figure turns a corner, and Lance and Shiro follow it.

Straight into the point of a knife.

Shiro grabs the back of his shirt to keep him from skewering himself on it, and as Lance tries to calm his racing heartbeat he hears a spitting voice in front of him.

“Why are you following me? Are you cops? What do you want?”

Lance finally takes his focus off the knife and sees dark tumbled hair and intense, sparking eyes. His heart skips.

Shiro puts both hands up placatingly. “We’re not cops.”

The eyes narrow suspiciously. “Then what is this? Do you want to blackmail me?”

“Hell no,” Lance says, before he can think. “We want to _thank_ you!”

The knife lowers slightly as the man’s brows draw together in confusion. “What?”

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” Shiro says smoothly, as Lance marvels at his composure. “I’m Shiro. This is Lance.”

Lance gives than man in front of him a halfhearted smile.

“…Keith,” the man replies slowly.

_Keith._ Lance savors it in his mind, not even caring if it’s his real name or an alias.

“Okay, Keith,” Shiro says, with that slow, bone-melting smile. “What Lance means is that we’ve…” He coughs and Lance sees to his delight that he’s blushing, “ _Availed_ ourselves of your services and…we appreciate it.”

Keith’s eyes suddenly darken. “So, what, you wanted to see the face of the whore who’s been blowing you?”

“God, no!” Lance says, despite the fact that, yes, it’s kind of true, but the word _whore_ stabs him in the gut.

“Nothing like that!” Shiro says hastily, although Lance can see the flush has crept down to his neck now. “We did want to meet you, yes, but not for the reason you think.”

Keith’s fists clench. “Just because I sell my body for a living doesn’t mean I’m available for whatever you want!”

Shiro opens his mouth to say something else, but Lance cuts him off, once again speaking before he thinks. “Why do you even do that anyway? You could be, like, a model!”

Keith’s eyes throw angry sparks. “So, what, you think I’m _too good_ to hook, or something? Fuck you!”

The knife comes back up, and before Lance can apologize, Keith says, “Don’t follow me any farther. I better not see either of you at the club again, or I’m reporting you to management!”

He backs down the block, and vanishes into an alley.

Lance collapses on the pavement, his hands over his eyes.

“Fuck,” he says in a muffled voice.”

Shiro’s hand lands sympathetically on his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope I don't get flamed for this. It is an AU, all the characters are of age, and they're meeting for the first time here. I hope that since Lance/Shiro is a shaladin ship and I tried to eliminate the other characters by having them appear elsewhere I won't get any grief, but this fandom can be...yeah.


End file.
